


Until The Morning Comes Around

by tjstar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apocalypse averted, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Klaus Hargreeves Whump, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Misfits (TV 2009) References, Near Death Experiences, No Incest, Parallel Universes, Post-Canon Fix-It, Relapsing, Sibling Bonding, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel, some harold/klaus and hazel/klaus but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: It’s been six months. The Umbrella Academy averted the Apocalypse, but Ben and Dave are still dead, and Klaus is slipping into the vortex of his sins again. But then Five says,“I think I can help you. I know how to bring Dave back without disrupting the stream of time.”Clinging to his last hope, Klaus joins him on the ride through the space and time, trying to find the universe of his internal peace. Trying to find Dave.But Five never said it was going to be easy.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Everyone
Comments: 35
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

“Drinking again?”

“What a shocking attentiveness, Ben.”

“I can stop you now, you know.”

“This is why I didn’t want to make any progress,” Klaus smirks into his drink. “Raising this glass for you, mein bruder. Cheers.” 

Whiskey burns his throat, ghostly tears burn his eyes, heart thumps in his chest. He throws his head back and covers his ears with his palms, letting the noises around him drown in intoxication. It doesn’t hit him, not at this point. It’s been six months. His six months of sobriety and failed attempts to conjure Dave; he tried, he prayed to God but she remained silent.

As silent as this half empty bottle on the counter in front of him. 

“Klaus, come on, talk to me.”

Klaus groans and drops his head onto his folded arms. He’s weak, he knows; he is, he’s always been, he will be. He can’t just reforge himself, his habits, he’s sick of all the glances and pseudo-pity addressed to him. He probably begins to doze off when he hears a snarky teenage voice. 

“Should’ve expected that. Klaus,” despite his fragility, Five’s always been a strong kid. So Klaus can already feel the bruise forming on his shoulder where Five’s fist landed. “Shit, Klaus!” he tugs at the bun on the back of Klaus’s head, making him lift his forehead off the table. “Sober up, you idiot!” 

This is too much to ignore. 

“What do you want?” Klaus straightens up his back. “I’ve spent all the morning trying to make my hair look nice,” he tucks a loose strand behind his ear. Five frowns. “Fine, fine, I’m listening.”

Klaus rubs his eyes; the eyeliner he stole from Allison is not as water-resistant as the company promised. 

“I’ve made some calculations,” Five says. And probably thinks that Klaus can read his minds. Klaus turns to him,

“And? Gonna get your Nobel Prize for being an annoying old fart in a teenage body?.. Ow, hey! Don’t hit me,” Klaus laughs as Five’s elbow gets him in the side. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

He’s reaching his hand for the glass, but when his lips just touch the edge, Five snatches it out of his fingers and downs the whiskey in one go. He winces, his voice cracks as he says,

“I think I can help you.”

Klaus takes a clean glass from the shelf under the counter and fills it with vodka. 

“Alcoholism is not a choice, my brother Ben once told me.” 

And he winks at Ben who’s just watching them silently with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I can save Dave.”

“And I can fly, yeah, what else?”

Klaus hates the way his voice wavers.

“Listen to me, you dumb—”

“Enough,” Klaus’ GOODBYE palm is like a red stop sign. “Enough of this. If you came here to insult me, I’ll take it. But if you teleported your ass here to _mock_ me, I’m quitting then,” he slides off the stool and plods to the staircase. 

Five blinks himself right in front of him. 

“I’m going to travel through the space and time to fix what I’ve done,” he says. “And I’m taking you with me.”

Klaus chugs the vodka straight from the bottleneck. 

“Me? Oh, really? Why me, if I’m just a junkie dumbass who doesn’t know a thing about the time and space?” 

“Because you’re still my brother.”

With this, Five grips at Klaus’ forearm, squeezing the life out of it; the last thing Klaus’ drunken mind registers is vodka spilling onto his Converse sneakers out of the bottle and Ben’s puzzled glance. 

And then, there’s a blue and white flash.

**_00.01_ **

His head hurts. 

The rest of his body hurts too, he thinks belatedly. He sits up slowly, and opens his eyes as the room in front of him tilts. He shouldn’t have been drinking at all, he doesn’t even remember leaving the Academy and… Klaus’ mind jerks awake as he sees his hands, his tattoos, and the ring on his finger. A wedding ring, in fact. 

“Finally you’re awake.”

Klaus props his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands; the left side of his head hurts, mouth still tastes like that whiskey from Reginald’s bar.

“Five, you little shit,” Klaus moans out. “Should’ve warned me.”

“He did,” Ben informs him.

“Really?”

“You were just too drunk to listen.”

“Don’t talk to a married man like this, Benji,” Klaus huffs. “Don’t even know whether I want to know who’s my partner or not.” 

“I’ve done some research while you were out.”

“Oh?”

“You’re not gonna like it.” 

“Yeah no shit,” Klaus squints at the rays of sun hitting him in the face mercilessly. 

He gets up, having to stand for a second unmoving before he can take a step. This is not how his hangover usually makes him feel; his headache worsens, coiling in his left temple — it can be the aftermath of that spacial jump. But the way Ben looks at him makes him think that it’s not the only problem. His ribs hurt too, he lifts the hem of a gray t-shirt up and sees a black mess of a bruise wrapping his right side, stretching from his hipbone to his armpit.

Ben gasps next to him.

“Uh, I guess I… _I fell?”_ Klaus looks at him with a pained smile. “Who’d dare to ruin this beauty anyway?”

“I’d recommend you to find a mirror.”

There’s nothing optimistic about Ben’s words. 

Klaus lets out a shuddering breath before taking the ring off and laying it onto the bedside table.

“It’s not Dave, right?”

Ben nods. 

Klaus combs his fingers through his greasy curls, then gathering them back into a bun with the red scrunchie that’s been hanging on his wrist. Klaus ignores the fingerprints-like bruises littering his forearms as he reaches for his pants lying on the floor. Same old ones, faux leather and laces, like a reminder of Klaus’ eccentric past. Everything in this bedroom is too white, too clean; but Klaus accidentally knocks the pillow off the bed and finds a dried blood stain on the pillowcase. 

“The bathroom’s here,” Ben calls for him from the hall. Klaus staggers out of the bedroom, leaning to the wall for support.

“Got any idea why my head won’t stop spinning? Because...”

“Not related to these horrible bruises? No,” Ben cuts him off. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

“Yeah? I’d take another nap.”

He got beaten, he knows. He makes it to the bathroom, nearly slipping on the blue tiles and gripping at the sink. Round lamps on the ceiling make him look far too pale as he stares at his reflection in the mirror; his nostrils and the tip of his nose are stained with blood, along with his upper lip. His bottom lip is swollen, there’s the bruise on his chin, barely covered with the stubble. He touches his left temple again, finding a lump there, it hurts like a bare nerve; Klaus runs the cold water and splashes it onto his face, trying to wash the pain away. 

His tattoos from Vietnam are gone, his Umbrella tattoo looks too worn-out and faded. 

“These might be broken,” Ben says, pointing at Klaus’ side. 

Klaus presses his palm to his ribs.

“Nah.”

His vision clears little by little as he wanders through the house, making it to the first floor and into the living room. And there he finds something that Ben was talking about; something that he would’ve preferred to not see. There are his wedding pictures on the glass table, on the walls — a snippets of a happy marriage, a happy family life. They’re wearing black suits and holding bouquets of white roses, smiling to the camera and showing off their rings to their invisible audience. Klaus thinks he’s still drunk or high, or whatever this damn universe gives him — but the man in the pictures next to him is Harold Jenkins. Or Leonard Peabody, again, depends on the timeline. 

Ben seems to hear his thoughts.

“He goes by Leonard,” he says. “I found your marriage certificate.”

And Klaus says,

“I’m gonna file for divorce.”

And then, he’s gonna find Five and plead him to finish this dumb act of altruism. This isn’t helping him at all. Klaus can’t stand these neat wooden frames: he and Leonard on the beach, he and Leonard in the restaurant, he and Leonard kiss. 

“Is there a chance that I just got into a fight, and Harold helped me like a good husband? What do you think, Ben?”

“I think we should leave him alone in this dollhouse of life.”

“Good point,” Klaus agrees. “But before we go, I’m gonna rummage in Harold’s first aid kit.”

“Klaus, no!” 

Ben is still incorporeal, but Klaus doesn’t walk through him as he enters the bathroom again. Ben keeps cursing, saying how much he wants to kick Klaus’ ass right now. But Klaus doesn’t listen to him, throwing the bottles of pills off the shelves. There are the painkillers, band aids and bandages, stomach ache relievers, and then — Klaus lets out a hysterical giggle as he finds it — an orange bottle of anxiety meds. _Prescribed to Klaus Peabody, two pills daily._

“See?!” Klaus holds it for Ben to read the note. “I’m sober, well, mostly, but I don’t see anyone else except for you. And my condition is definitely not just a drug withdrawal. He keeps me sedated for reasons, oh jeez.”

“I want to punch Five in the face,” Ben says. He stands right next to Klaus while he shakes the pills out of the bottle and into the toilet. 

“I bet Five didn’t know.”

“We need to find him.”

“This angry leprechaun can be anywhere,” Klaus shrugs. “But I’m gonna feel better once I’m out of this house. How could you even think that I was going to get high on Harold’s meds? Who taught you to think such horrible things about your favorite brother?!”

“My favorite brother taught me,” Ben deadpans. 

Klaus waves his words away. 

He just wants to find Dave, to be happy with Dave, but all of this is just unsettling. Klaus is still concerned by the fact that apparently, this universe is Daveless. Last reminders of him are gone, even the dog tags, even the scar on Klaus left shoulder; a bullet grazed him, and Dave was the one to help him stop the bleeding and bandage the wound. Klaus needs to get out. Out of this house, out of this life. But he discovers more disturbing details as he goes to the front door: it has three locks, and there are no keys within eyeshot. Klaus looks for them in the drawers, in the pockets of his coat hanging on the rack. 

“You’re locked.”

“No shit.”

The windows on the first floor are decorated with metal grids, and Klaus can’t find a bobby pin, or a knife or any forceps to break the locks. He panics, feeling the surface around him getting smaller and squeezing the air out of his lungs. 

“Klaus!” 

He stumbles and falls down to his knees, knocking the pictures of him and Harold on the floor; the glass breaks, and Klaus feels a spasm in his chest. He now hears _their_ voices too, whispering into his ears, and fuck this — he almost regrets he got rid of his meds in the first place. 

“They’re too loud,” Klaus curls into himself on the floor, but no matter how hard he presses his palms to his ears, he can still hear the ghosts. 

There’s a flood in his mind, an abyss of fear. 

“Get up, Klaus, get up,” Ben crouches down next to him. “You can make it.” 

“The window on the second floor.”

Klaus doesn’t remember seeing a grid there, so maybe his luck will be kind enough to him to let him jump and not break all of his bones. He tries to listen to Ben, to his one and only guardian in the world of the dead. Klaus barely makes it to the staircase when he hears the locks click, the door open, and a voice calling for him.

“Klaus, I’m home.”

“Shit,” Klaus runs upstairs, mentally preparing himself for the worst.

And the worst happens. 

“Have you been drinking again? What is this? Klaus?”

“He found a broken frame,” Ben says blankly. 

Klaus slips and clings to the railings.

“No happily ever after then.”

“Hate to say that, but you’re gonna have to act like a good husband to win some time.” 

Klaus feels sick at the thought that he and Harold could’ve had sex. Klaus doesn’t make it to the window, cursing a sudden bout of dizziness that leaves him lying boneless on the floor. It takes him a minute to realize that he got pushed in the back, and he scraped his cheek on the carpet.

“Oh hey, dear,” he smiles at Harold who’s towering over him. “How’s your day been?”

He tries to be as polite as he can, ignoring the fact that he’s just been tackled to the floor by Harold fucking Jenkins. Ben facepalms. Klaus is amazed when Harold helps him get up and sit on the bed.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Me? Who do you think I am?” Klaus pats Harold’s arm. “I’m sober, what are you talking about!..”

If he reaches for the vase in the corner of the room, he might knock Harold out. Harold slaps Klaus’ hand and gets up. 

“You reek of booze, don’t even try to fool me!” he doesn’t let Klaus move, pushing him back onto the bed. “Have you forgotten that I saved your worthless life? You’re just an alcoholic and a junkie, and you’ll never become a better person if you don’t respect me.” 

Klaus laughs.

“Respect you? For what? For beating the shit out of me?”

Harold backhands him across the face instantly.

“Don’t start this again.”

“Oh, so you’re blaming me?” Klaus presses his palm to his stinging cheek. “This story takes a funny turn. I’m not a therapist, but I can clearly tell that you had some troubles with your dear old daddy. I bet he didn’t like the hammer that flattened out his skull.” 

Klaus sees the ghosts behind Harold’s back: a woman with the violin in her hands, a man with the side of his head caved in and another man with his neck twisted. _He killed us,_ they cry and moan, _he killed us._ Klaus is so distracted by their mangled features he doesn’t see another blow coming. He fights back, pushing Harold away from him, but Harold shoves him off the bed, and the back of Klaus’ head smacks against the corner of the nightstand. 

“Manifest me! Klaus!”

He can’t get a glimpse of Ben’s face, he feels something hot trickling down the back of his neck. Another hit in the face keeps him awake, and that’s when Harold calls him a _slut._

“I’d never be _your_ slut, Harold,” Klaus smiles, tasting blood. He tries to focus and release all of his energy, his clenched fists glow blue, but the light fades instantly. “I can’t,” he looks over Harold’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Harold doesn’t get an answer as the vase — the one Klaus was so desperately trying to get to — gets smashed on his head. 

“Five?!”

Klaus pushes Harold’s limp body off himself and gets up; his head is still spinning, and he leans against the wall, giving Harold a slight kick in the ribs. He groans. 

“Are we gonna call the cops on him?”

“I did,” Five scrunches up his nose. “Could’ve killed him, but it’s irrelevant now.”

Five’s still wearing the Academy uniform, it’s all blood-stained now. Something in Klaus prompts that it’s not his own blood.

“Irrelevant?”

Klaus doesn’t even wait for Five to explain him everything. He hears the sirens of the police cars, and the next thing he knows is that he, Ben and Five get sucked into the fountain of blue sparkles. 

**_00.02_ **

“Wake up!”

Oh, he’s been there. He knows this scent, the sound of the heart monitor beeping on his left. Klaus blinks just to see Ben standing next to the IV stand.

“What happened this time?”

The only thing Klaus remembers is that Five has thrown him somewhere again; Klaus is probably indeed an idiot in every parallel universe. His sensations come back, and he finds his right forearm bandaged tightly.

“Oh no, did I—”

“Seems so.”

“Oh, well done.”

“Klaus, wait, lie back down.”

Klaus doesn’t lie back down. He takes the needle out of the catheter in the back of his hand; there’s a small trickle of blood, but Klaus wipes it on the hem of his hospital gown. He hates hospitals. He hates the ones who live in hospitals, mostly. 

“Klaus!”

“Shut it, Ben!” 

He’s been unconscious all day, it seems, and he has no idea how much blood he lost; he’s stuck in the ward now, thanks to Five. Five? Little bastard. 

“He’s coming for you, isn’t he?”

“Ha-ha,” Klaus laughs humorlessly. “One really has to die to reach this level of fun?”

The door is unlocked; and maybe Klaus is a little lucky because he finds the hallway empty. Klaus is happy to have his underwear still on as he rushes down the hallway. Well, _rushes._ His palm slides down the wall as soon as he gets up; he patiently waits for the blood to flow back to his head and slows down. 

“There are the nurses,” Ben says. 

“That’s what’s bothering me,” Klaus hisses back and dives around the corner to not get noticed by the janitor mopping the floor. 

Once the janitor is nowhere to be seen, Klaus continues his journey, aware of the moving cameras on both ends of the hallway. Klaus counts to ten in his head and then dashes across the hall and into what seems to be a locker room. He’s eager to get rid of this gown and a plastic bracelet on his left wrist. It’s not a rehab, just a regular hospital, and it calms him down a little. Klaus locks the door and looks around the room; he snaps his fingers and smiles as he finds a pink uniform hanging on the back of the chair.

“My second name is fashion, am I right, Ben?”

Ben rolls his eyes.

Klaus takes the pants and the shirt — they’re baggy enough, but the pant legs are way too short. _Clara Whitmore,_ the badge reads. Klaus whistles and tosses it into the trash can.

“God bless Clara,” Klaus says as he finds the keys in the pocket. Room №22, he’s going to check it; he finds a pair of crocs of his size and leaves the gown lying on the bench. 

“No, don’t do that!” Ben tries to stop him when he takes a wallet out of some backpack’s pocket. “Klaus!”

“I’m not spending the night on the streets,” Klaus says firmly. 

Ben shoves his hands in his pockets and nods. 

Klaus begins to feel the ghosts all around him as soon as he leaves the locker room; they’re following him step to step, wailing and asking him for help. Their guts are hanging off the wounds, their eyes are dead and glazed over, hands mutilated and necks swollen. 

“Don’t pay attention, Klaus, you can do that.”

Klaus retches into his fist. He’s sober, but the hospital is too crowded although it’s empty. And if a sleeping nurse on a plastic chair can think that there is nothing suspicious about a guy wearing a pink uniform, then a vomiting guy in a pink uniform would definitely draw her attention.

“Your tattoos are there,” Ben says. “The ones from Vietnam.”

“Which means that Dave is dead.”

“Also you’re not wearing any eyeliner.”

“Oh, forgive me brother dear, I didn’t have time to make myself pretty again.”

“You look like a teenager without it.”

“That’s why I’m wearing makeup,” Klaus fends off, making it to the room №22. “Thank Christ!..” 

He enters some sort of a storage where they keep the patients’ clothes in white plastic boxes; it doesn’t take long for Klaus to find his legendary leather pants that seem to be constant in all of his lives. If there were any blood stains on his clothes, they’re gone now. 

“Free laundry!” Klaus sniffs his coat. “This smells so good, Ben! Like… Lavender and sanitizer.”

“You have lost your last brain cell.”

“I’m just trying to find something good in every situation,” Klaus pouts as he changes. He finds the eyeliner in his shoe. Whoever kept his things safe deserves a salary increase. 

Klaus bends over as the sound from the speakers hits his eardrums: _“Doctor Morrison to operation room number five! Doctor Morrison to operation room number five!”_ Klaus storms out of the storage and sees the doctors and nurses rushing down the hall with the stretchers. He gets a glimpse of a young girl with her hair all bloodied, and then he sees her inspecting her body. She stares at him. 

“You can see me?”

Klaus’ heart crawls up his throat. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” he says before running away. The hall smells like blood, the souls of the dead call for him, and Klaus gets lost in his feelings, in his senses and in the crowd.

“Are you hurt?” a middle-aged doctor with the glasses on his nose grabs Klaus’ shoulders and shakes him. “Do you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Klaus raises his hands up. 

“I’m… I’m not.”

“Good. You can wait outside,” the doctor hurries down the hallway. 

“There was a car crash a few blocks away,” Ben says. 

Klaus nods and walks through the glass doors. He doesn’t feel free once he’s outside, he needs a drink or a drag or something else. But instead he just walks, and walks, and walks until he’s far too lightheaded to keep going. The bench is slightly damp after the rain, but Klaus plops down onto it, clenching his fists in despair. 

“He’s dead, Ben, he’s still dead. And Five… He just left me there!”

“He found you last time.”

“Yeah, when my brain was decorating Harold’s bedroom.”

“We could find a hotel,” Ben offers. “Or… Go to Diego.”

Klaus bites his nails, thinking. He doesn’t know for how long he’s gonna be stuck here, and a bus ride is definitely cheaper than a motel room, and the wallet he stole from the hospital is his only savior. Klaus gets up and heads to the bus stop.

“Fine, we’re gonna visit Diego.” 

*** 

Diego is still working at the same gym from Klaus’ past realities, and Klaus feels happiness surging through him when he sees Diego mopping the floors. Another constant thing. 

“Hey, hermano!” 

“You?!” 

Klaus makes it to the ring and waves at Diego. But he doesn’t get a simple _hi_ , because Diego attacks him, punches him in the stomach and presses him to the floor next to the bucket with dirty water. 

“How d-dare you to appear here when she died?”

Klaus would’ve answered, but he’s too busy coughing his lungs up after the blow. _She died._ How sad is that. Diego raises his hand again, and Klaus blankly throws his forearm over his face to save his teeth from getting knocked out. 

“W-what’s that?” Diego snatches Klaus’ right hand, looking at the bandages. “Blood?”

“Eh, the stitches broke,” Klaus explains. “I just got… Discharged from the hospital.”

Diego gives up to his frenzy. 

“Coward! You left her there alone!” 

“Diego, listen to me, I didn’t!”

Klaus wants to get up, but Diego’s sitting on his hips, pinning him to the floor and ready to start hitting him again. 

“Your fingerprints and your drugs were all over that damn room. Along with your blood,” Diego hisses. “She died b-because of you.”

“Patch died, I know, I’m so sorry,” Klaus bites the tip of his tongue as Diego grabs the front of his coat. “But listen to me,” he screws his eyes shut not to see his brother’s fist breaking his nose. 

But it never happens. 

“I was there. Let him go, Diego.”

“Ben?”

Diego grabs one of his knives but lets it fall to the floor when Ben approaches him, letting out a soft fluorescent glow. Klaus’ hands are glowing too, he feels the power his body contains. 

“Klaus is sober, listen to him,” Ben says. 

And Diego listens. 

He lets them sit in his boiler room, on his bed, and Klaus tells everything from the very beginning: about getting kidnapped and tortured for information, about Eudora saving his life, about stealing that damn briefcase. About falling in love with Dave, about Dave’s death and getting back to the Academy. 

“I don’t remember how that happened,” Klaus says, rubbing his bandaged arm. “But I think I just couldn’t cope.” 

“So you lost someone too,” Diego pats Klaus’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, bro.”

“You believe me?!”

“No shit, you’ve just conjured Ben.”

Klaus yawns. 

“It’s so exhausting, to be honest.”

Ben next to him fades. 

“But can you t-try and conjure Patch?”

Klaus wipes his sweaty palms on his t-shirt. 

“Sure. Depends on how stubborn she is.”

Diego nods. 

“Sleep now. Save your energy for tomorrow.”

***

Tomorrow doesn’t happen. Klaus wakes up to the sound of a small TV in the corner of the room; he opens his eyes and turns to the screen just to see _Allison_ wearing one of her fancy dresses, looking great except for a bleeding hole right between her collarbones.

“Hi, Klaus,” she smiles. 

He shows her his HELLO palm.

“How?”

And she says,

“Patrick.”

Diego cusses and punches the wall, rough yellow plastering peels off. 

_“...killed in her apartment in Los Angeles… A gunshot wound in her chest… Her husband…”_

Klaus can barely stomach these news; Ben stares at Allison too while Diego keeps boxing with the wall. 

“Allie, I’m sorry.”

She nods, and Klaus hears a familiar grumpy voice, spitting out one word, 

“Shit.”

And then Klaus disappears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwQG_GYMP5s) video  
> \---  
> stay safe, stay home, read fics <3


	2. Chapter 2

_**00.03** _

The sound of water dripping into the sink gets on his nerves. 

“How long we’ve been here?”

“Two hours.”

“Sucks.”

“And we’re stuck here because?..”

“They think you killed me.”

Klaus whines and covers his eyes with his rolled-up orange sleeve; for God’s sake, this jumpsuit is so uncomfortable — no belt, no laces, no nothing. Even his shoes are ugly; Klaus has been robbed of his last constant details.

“I did?”

“You didn’t.”

More water drips into the sink, Klaus taps his foot on a single bunk in the cell. He’s got no cellmates either, he doesn’t feel high or drunk or coming down, but he and Ben are alone here. And yes, they’re in prison. And yes, it’s been a lot longer than just two hours in this reality. 

“Apparently, you’re still dead.”

“I just overheard the conversation. The police thinks that you disemboweled me, but your psychiatrist thinks that you did it because the voices in your head told you so,” Ben walks past Klaus again and again. “But I _know_ it wasn’t you. It was Horror.”

“So I’m like a lovechild of that guy from _The Green Mile_ and Hannibal Lecter for them?”

Klaus stretches his lips into a smile. Silence is a true blessing. With or without drugs.

Ben stops right next to him.

“I think you can control your powers.”

“Like, manifest you to testify?” Klaus raises his head from the pillow. “What, are you keeping secrets from me? Come on, spit it out, Benny.”

“They’re gonna put you on the electric chair if your schizophrenia remains undiagnosed.” 

“Oh, that’s the worst kind of roasting.” 

Klaus thinks some more. If God would have brought him back after the execution he hadn’t deserved, it would have made everything easier. But he never knows his limits. How many lives has he wasted already?

“We’re gonna get ready for a prison break,” Ben finally says. “Can’t believe I’m instigating you into this.”

Klaus gets up to get a better look at the metal door; there’s no lock or a latch on the inside, a small square hatch is closed as well. He knocks on the surface, the sound is dull — his cell is soundproof. Klaus points at the ceiling. 

“The camera’s not working. It’s something.”

“You should check every corner of the cell,” Ben insists. “A guy like you would’ve definitely had a stash.”

“Like, drugs?”

“No, not drugs, Klaus!.. Something sharp that would help you open the door!”

Klaus rubs his chin, scanning the cell and calling for his intuition to show him the best hiding places. He looks for it under the mattress, only finding a lighter and a pack of cigarettes there. Not bad; he can start the fire to set off the fire alarm. He hopes it’s not gonna out him if he needs to smoke. He doesn’t have bed sheets or a pillowcase, of course, no spoons or forks either. 

“I thought it’s impossible to disappoint myself even more, but in fact, I’ve just achieved that.” 

“You’re corporeal, at least,” Ben grumbles. 

“And you’re just a pain in the ass.”

Having his head free of the ghosts’ constant pleas is the best feeling ever. The cell is tight, and Klaus doesn’t want to focus on it, tugging at the collar of his shirt to get some air into his lungs. Blood pulsates in his ears, another sign of a nearing panic attack; he closes his eyes when he hears the footsteps. 

“Hargreeves! Detective Patch is waiting.” 

Klaus coughs to cover the trembling of his voice. 

“Come in, sweetie.”

It takes good three minutes to open all the locks, and then the door clicks open with a beeping. It drags against the floor heavily. A guard enters the cell, a man in his late forties, maybe fifties. Gray hair, belly hanging above his belt. Not much of a threat, Klaus thinks until he gets pinned to the wall by him.

He pretends he doesn’t hear Ben chuckle. 

“You need to exercise more.” 

Klaus holds his hands out for the guard to handcuff him; then they leave the cell where another man is waiting — a young mountain of muscles, and Klaus’ bones ache in advance. But he can’t keep his mouth shut; talking endlessly is his only tactics.

“Just handcuffs? No muzzle then? No red gags? Do you hide those treasures in your office? Do you enjoy tying handsome men like me? Ever heard of bondage?”

He doesn’t get beaten for that which is weird, which makes him come to two conclusions: they have either done all of those to him already, or… Or they’re afraid of him. The guards keep silent, their fingers locked around Klaus’ upper arms. They lead him to the interrogation room, push him inside and wait by the door. Klaus keeps his head down as he goes to the chair, sits down and puts his cuffed hands onto the table in front of him for Patch to see. 

She’s not alone here.

“Diego?”

Diego greets him with a silent nod. 

“We found a good lawyer. A professional,” Patch says. There’s pity frozen in her doe eyes. “And if the mental institution will sign the agreement, then…”

“I’m not going to the nuthouse,” Klaus raises his hands in defeat. Diego’s fist slams against the table.

“But it can save your life, idiot!”

“Spending the rest of my life like a vegetable wrapped in waterproof bed sheets is not a life, Diego.”

Diego falters. 

“But the Icarus Theater massacre...”

 _“Massacre?_ Would you be so kind to enlighten me?!” Klaus snaps. “Really, I don’t remember what happened, I swear.”

Diego smirks, huffing out a “yeah, really.”

Patch taps her nails on the red folder.

“Camera Orchestra. Your sister’s show.”

Klaus’ palms begin to sweat, he wipes them on his pant legs as he understands.

“Did she… Did she get the first chair?”

Diego shakes his head.

Patch reads the file out loud. 

“The terrorists took the orchestra and the audience hostages, but when the police arrived everyone was dead. Including your brother and your sister. Everyone, except for… You. You came out to the police with your arms raised high and confessed that you committed a mass murder. We still don’t know how you did that.”

“God, oh God,” Klaus presses his hands between his knees and hits his forehead on the table. “I’m so, so stupid.”

“So we have to confirm your diagnosis before they broil your ass on the electric chair,” Diego pipes up. “I couldn’t make it in time.”

“Yes, because you’re a cop! Of course you had to be late,” Klaus spits venomously. “No offence, Eudora.” 

She ignores his words, just adding,

“You have a week before the last tests should be done.”

A week then. Great. 

*** 

He tries to summon Vanya and apologize. 

She’s probably too introverted to chase him. 

“I am a monster,” Ben repeats for the millionth time. “I’m a real monster.”

“Well, technically, you’re in the jail now.”

A headache pulsates in his temple, he can’t breathe. He slips out of the upper half of his jumpsuit and lifts his sweat-stained t-shirt up — he’s got a temple tattooed on his stomach. Then he checks his left bicep and his right shoulder — the skull and the tiger haven’t vanished. 

He tries to summon Dave, but the pounding in his brain worsens.

“They hate me,” Ben moans out. “I killed dozens and dozens of innocent people. You can’t conjure Vanya and Dave because of me.”

“Or because Vanya thinks she’s still ordinary. And Dave… Dave is just something I can’t afford,” Klaus leans to the wall and closes his eyes. 

Panic vibrates inside of him, his muscles shake and twitch on their own accord. Weakness settles on his shoulders, he raises his arm and hears a thump.

He sniffles, tasting copper on his tongue.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

“Huh?”

Klaus presses the back of his hand to his nose; but there’s something else that concerns him. There is something else that concerns Ben as well.

“Did you see that? Klaus?”

Klaus swings his legs over the side of the bunk and looks around the cell; his ugly shoes _lie in the sink._ He sways from the lack of energy when he goes to take them out. 

“Telekinesis then,” Klaus exhales. “That’s great.” 

The water from the tap begins dripping again.

*** 

He keeps practicing for two days. Every time he ends up washing the blood off his jumpsuit in the sink. Five doesn’t appear, and Klaus continues to plan his prison break. He’s getting better with controlling his abilities, he can move small objects like his shoes; he once hits Ben with the pillow not even touching it, but it flies through him. Klaus is not allowed to leave his cell even for a walk, and his only visitors are the guards. They give him food through the hatch, they take the tray back; they don’t open the door at all. Klaus is pissed, and he’s got a terrible idea how to force somebody to let him out. This cell reminds him of that mausoleum from his childhood — these memories still make him shiver. 

“I can pretend that I have appendicitis,” Klaus says out loud. “They would be obligated to take me to the medics.”

Ben shakes his head.

“You got your appendix removed when you were nineteen. After that drunk fight, remember? The scar is still there.”

Klaus rubs his abdomen.

“Suicide attempt then? God, no,” he waves his arm. Ben winces. 

Klaus can only guess if he’s trained himself well enough to knock the guard off his feet when he hears the footsteps, and he doesn’t have time to come up with a better excuse.

“Hey, Greg?” he calls.

A grouchy voice replies.

“It’s Richard.”

“Sorry, dear,” Klaus whimpers. “I got this terrible ache in my right side, you know?” he groans and slides down the wall. “I feel sick and I’m pretty sure I’m running a fever, and, _oh fuck,”_ he’s always been good at crying. “Can you take me to the medics, please?”

The hatch in the door cracks open. 

“Get up,” Richard orders. 

“I can’t,” Klaus lies. There are the blood stains all over the front of his jumpsuit, he doesn’t want the guard to see them. “By God’s name, I swear.”

“Don’t be overdramatic or he won’t believe you,” Ben hisses. 

Klaus adds, a bit calmer. 

“Richard, please, do something.” 

A little more moaning just in case.

“Fine,” Richard says reluctantly. “Don’t move, I’m coming in.”

“Oh, thank God,” Klaus clenches his fists. “Thank God.” 

His heart is about to stop and explode at the same time when the locks click open; he’s got one chance and no right to make a mistake — he leaps onto Richard as he enters the cell, he pushes him away with a telekinetic wave. The blowback pins him to the wall, but Klaus pulls himself together and gallops down the hallway. The alarms above him screech, and Ben runs next to him and warns him about the camera sets; Klaus shoves two more guards aside. His abilities feel weird — powerful surges slip off his fingers and palms as he aims at his pursuers.

He’s making too much noise, he’s aware. 

“Left, left, right,” Ben commands. 

Klaus has to use his powers to throw the door open; it’s a massive piece of metal covered with detectors, but it doesn’t stop him. He ducks into the open door, making it to the prison yard. The rays of flashlights tear the veil of the darkness, and Klaus squats down behind the dumpster, shoving himself into a tiny crack between its side and the wall. He hunches his back and pulls his knees to his chest to make himself smaller. Klaus wipes his face with his palm, it’s all slick with blood, the jumpsuit sticks to his torso. He thinks the guards and the dogs can find him by the chain of bloody drops from his fucked up nose.

But maybe he’s just invisible for them. Klaus leans his back against the prison wall and waits. He’s afraid to even breathe, afraid to choke on his blood; Ben keeps checking what’s going on.

“I think it’s safe to go now,” he finally says. 

Klaus hears the voices travel away from him and crawls to the grid surrounding the yard. He touches it with his finger — no electricity. Adrenaline turns him to a psycho as he climbs up and up, while Ben waits for him on the other side already. 

“Cheater,” Klaus huffs out. His shin sticks to the barbed wire on top of the grid, the thorns slice his pant leg and his ankle. He bites his lips not to cry in pain, blood wets his sock and his shoe, streaming down and splattering against the ground.

He makes it down. 

Ben gives him a thumb-up.

And then the police raid happens. 

“Jesus Christ!” 

Klaus is blinded by the headlights surrounding him, out of the corner of his eye he sees Diego; Klaus can still use his powers no matter how exhausted he is, no matter how bad his nosebleed is. He wriggles his way out of the circle, he’s trapped, but he’s pretty sure he’s not hurting anyone. 

Ben was alive when the Icarus Theater massacre happened. 

Ben is his only backup now. 

Klaus runs away, falling and stumbling back onto his feet when he finds a small dart sticking out of his hip, and the world spins as the sedatives kick in. Klaus rips the dart out; he’s in the middle of the deserted road now, and he can’t pass out there for the cops to get him.

“Klaus! Klaus!” Ben hollers, Ben almost cries. 

Klaus is still standing, and then he’s not. He sees bloody blotches, and then he hears the sound of the tires reverberating through the asphalt. Before closing his eyes, he sees Eudora and Diego running to him, he sees the truck rushing down the road, the speed’s too high for the driver to react and stop it. Klaus tries to roll over, but his limbs go slack. 

He’s hallucinating about Five calling his name and slapping him across the face. 

He’s nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

_**00.04** _

“You’re a grown man, Klaus, and I can’t leave you alone for a second.”

“It’s been a lot longer than just one second, you know.”

“I’m working, I can’t babysit you all the time!”

Klaus scoffs.

“Yeah? Could’ve just given me an instruction about how to survive this _Five Effect.”_

“At least, I don’t need you to pretend to be my father.”

This time, Five teleported them into a cozy apartment on the third floor; Klaus is surprised to discover that they’re roommates. But he’s rather happy to be wearing a tie-dye t-shirt and his pants instead of a jail jumpsuit, he’s rather happy to just lie in bed knitting… Whatever it is. 

“Come on, old soul, relax. I’m eager to discover a pile of shit you’ve thrown us into.”

Five keeps grumbling.

“You don’t understand.”

“You don’t explain,” Klaus fends off. 

Of course, Five doesn’t react.

“Is Ben here?”

“Yeah, sure,” Klaus drops his knitting needles onto his stomach. “Sitting on the table, wearing black. Being dead,” he waves at Ben.

Ben waves back. 

“Good,” Five nods. “Try to not get yourself killed then.”

And he blinks himself out of the room.

Just like that.

“Five? Five?!” 

“He’s got a style,” Ben confirms. “But I think he meant that we better stay in this apartment and wait for him.”

“Yeah, and then he forgets about us _again_ and I’ll die of hunger.”

After a quick look at himself, Klaus realizes that his tattoos from Vietnam are gone again, along with his scars. He doesn’t feel or look injured at all; his hair is healthy and clean, and even his beard is trimmed. That hasn’t happened for ages. There’s a planchette necklace instead of the dog tags, Klaus squeezes it with his HELLO palm, seeing the fog gathering in the corners of the room.

“Okay, Benny, let’s learn something good about us,” Klaus claps his hands and looks around the bedroom. “Well, I like to knit. I’m wearing skirts,” he says as he peeks into a closet. “Nice, what else?” he opens the drawers, finding the lighter and a stash of joints. “And I smoke the weed, thank Christ! Yes!” he gives the lighter a light smooch.

Ben points at the bunch of papers on the table.

“I think you’ve got a job.”

“Really? Oh,” Klaus looks at the newspaper page Ben’s pointing at. 

_“Klaus Hargreeves, the Séance. Former member of The Umbrella Academy. Palm and Tarot reader. If you’re dead, don’t worry, come to say HELLO.”_ Below, there’s the picture of Klaus’ tattooed palms. What a welcoming gesture.

“You’re a professional,” Ben lets out a whistle. 

“Nah, after knowing myself for thirty years I can say that I’m a charlatan.”

He folds the newspaper and drops it onto the mess of sticky notes on the table: names, addresses, phone numbers. 

“Your clients?”

“Seems so.”

A crystal ball and candles decorate his windowsill, Christmas lights form ornaments on the wall; there’s one more table and two cushions — Klaus is sure he took them from the Academy. He can’t believe he designed his apartment just like his childhood bedroom. There are psychedelic pictures on the walls, along with the doodles and quotes, Klaus recognizes his own messy handwriting. The hookah and the pipes are hidden under the bed along with a bottle of whiskey.

“Klaus, don’t…”

“Wasn’t going to drink it,” Klaus sighs. He looks through the window, and sees people rush and mind their own business. “How sweet.”

The sky is clear, the sun is bright. The birds are chirping, and Klaus begins to doubt his sobriety. He’s never felt this peaceful. 

“Maybe you’re hippie?” 

Klaus shrugs. He touches the strings of beads on his wrists — these amulets have never been able to help him overcome his fear of the dead. 

“Look at this, Ben,” Klaus crouches down and takes the Ouija board from underneath the pile of his clothes. “Now I’m one hundred percent sure I’m fooling people. I hope they pay me, at least.”

***

He’s waiting for Five patiently, knitting a rainbow-colored poncho. Two hours later, he’s bored, and the thought about the joints in the drawer never leaves his head. 

“I think it’s “time to get high” o’clock,” Klaus tosses the knitting needles and the clew on the floor. He ignores Ben’s arguments when he clamps the joint between his teeth and flickers the lighter. 

And then he hears the doorbell ring. 

“Do you think it’s Five?”

“He would’ve just blinked himself here,” Ben says. 

The doorbell rings again.

Klaus groans and reluctantly lays the joint and the lighter on the table. He can get high later. He hurries to the door and looks into the peephole, seeing a pudgy woman with copper hair. _What a visit!_ Ben nods, and Klaus opens the door. 

“Oh dear, thank God you’re home!” she squeezes him in a tight hug. Klaus pats her back, looking over her shoulder and mouthing a “what’s going on?” to Ben. 

Ben shrugs. 

“Something happened to Kenny?” Klaus asks. This woman seems to look after him since he was a kid — during their first mission, on the bus, at the rave, at the bowling club.

“Oh no, no, he’s fine, I just wanted you to contact my husband,” Kenny’s mom smiles. “The usual. Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Seems like you’re best pals,” Ben chuckles. 

Klaus follows her on the way to his room.

“Sweetheart is ready.” 

He has no idea what he’s doing. They sit on the cushions, Klaus lights the candles and tries to relax as he puts his hands onto the planchette; Kenny’s mom puts her hands on top of his, and begins to ask the questions. Klaus is not sure whether the planchette moves on its own, or the woman is the one who’s moving it. She asks the spirit simple questions, and when Klaus blinks, he sees the outlines of a man behind her back — his head is bloodied, and he’s holding a steering wheel in his hands. 

“Kenny misses you.”

The planchette moves, Klaus reads the message letter by letter: _I M I S S H I M T O O._ Klaus is amazed, because the ghost doesn’t yell at him, doesn’t cry, just waiting patiently. Ouija board is hot under Klaus’ palms, and he doesn’t know how it works, but _it works._

Kenny’s mom kisses Klaus’ cheek, staining it with her lipstick, puts the bills onto the table and leaves, wiping her eyes. 

Once Klaus closes the door, Ben says,

“You’re definitely not a charlatan.”

*** 

He works with two more clients — a man and a woman, both for the Tarot reading session. It goes quite well, because Klaus somehow _knows_ what he’s doing, and they believe him. They pay him; they don’t try to punch him for his stupid jokes. 

Klaus wonders how long his shift is.

Klaus wonders where Five is.

He’s tired, but the doorbell rings again. Klaus opens the door and nearly swoons into the arms of the man that enters the apartment. 

“The Séance?”

“D-dave? I mean... Dave Katz?”

Klaus lets out a pathetic squeal as his knees buckle, and Dave catches him, holds him upright. 

“Wow. You’re good. You know me? Wait, do _I know_ you?” 

Dave lets Klaus lean onto his shoulder as they enter his bedroom. Dave makes sure Klaus isn’t going to pass out as he sits down onto the bed next to him. Klaus’ chest is tight, because Dave is alive, Dave is warm and strong, Dave rubs Klaus’ back as he doubles over and buries his face in his palms. 

“Your grandma passed away three weeks ago, am I right? You’ve never been close with her, but she keeps coming to you in your dreams, asking for a bouquet of lilies,” Klaus mumbles. 

_That_ was the first story Dave had told him when they met in Vietnam; the night was cold and stormy, and neither of them could sleep. And now they’re meeting again, Dave is impressed again. 

“How did you… Oh, right. Right. You’re a qualified medium. Klaus… Oh, is this okay?”

“That’s my name.”

Ben is nowhere to be found. Klaus hasn’t noticed that he’s started to cry; he’s re-living this moment, he doesn’t need his abilities or his Ouija board to know what Dave’s going to say. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m… Yeah,” Klaus holds his breath and rubs his eyes with his fists. “Sorry about that. I’m just in a lot of… Physical and emotional pain right now.”

And Dave says,

“Empathy is a bitch.”

He would’ve said something else, Klaus is sure, but a slight _pop_ in the hallway stops him.

“What the hell, Klaus? If I have to deal with your drunk ass again, I swear, I’m… _Oh._ You’re not alone. Fine,” Five grimaces. At least, he hasn’t teleported himself onto the carpet right in front of Dave. 

Dave needs to take his time to adjust. 

“Dave, this is Five,” Klaus is proud to introduce his almost-a-husband to his very _talented_ brother. “Five, this is Dave.”

“I didn’t know you had a son,” Dave says, smiling and shaking Five’s hand. “How old are you?”

Five fumes, boiling like a scrawny time-traveling kettle. 

“He’s my brother!” Klaus exclaims. “And he’s… _Thirteen._ Currently going through puberty, forgive him, he’s a bit… Hysterical.”

Five cracks his knuckles.

“Yeah I have two younger twin sisters, I understand you,” Dave nods. 

And there’s so much kindness in his blue eyes that Klaus is about to melt into the bed. 

“I’m gonna… Do my homework,” Five spits angrily. “Klaus, I need you to help me with math.”

And he leaves the room. He walks, but Klaus can smell his desire to kick somebody’s ass; what a vibe.

“I’m only good with liberal arts!..” Klaus screams back at him. “So, yeah. Lilies, don’t forget. Your granny will be happy. May she rest in peace,” he turns to Dave. 

They look at each other and for a second Klaus thinks they’re gonna kiss, but —

“Klaus!”

Five. Shit. 

“Coming!”

Klaus grinds his teeth together; he needs to take a bath and smoke a joint to handle this avalanche of a day. 

Dave holds his hands before walking out of the door. 

Klaus can’t believe his luck. 

*** 

There’s nothing good about his late-night conversation with Five. Five only says that this is _the wrong_ reality, and that Klaus and Dave can’t be together; Five says that he needs to figure out how to teleport them out of this universe where everything is far too good. Klaus bristles, leaves him alone with his thoughts and goes to sleep. He’s sinking in the sea of nightmares, almost screaming into his pillow. 

When he wakes up, Five is gone. 

“What if he’s right?” 

Klaus nearly chokes on toothpaste when Ben appears behind his back.

“Five? He’s always right,” he spits the foam out and rinses his mouth. “But it’s Dave, Ben, it’s him! And there’s some… Chemistry between us again, just like those times in Vietnam.”

Ben crosses his arms over his chest.

“You want to get laid?”

“This too. But I love him. He… He completes me! I’m staying sober for him, for you, for everyone, and this feeling is just… It’s overwhelming.”

He sits down onto the bathtub while Ben keeps staring at him. Something’s not right about this whole time-traveling situation. Ben leaves him alone when the doorbell rings. Klaus freezes with his mouth open when he sees Dave on his threshold, holding a bouquet of red and white gerberas.

“I thought they would match your personality,” Dave grins. 

Klaus gasps,

“My favorite flowers!”

But his mind is worried now. 

Dave doesn’t seem to notice. 

*** 

Klaus’ life is just an orange dot on the tip of a joint; he sucks the steam in, then passing the joint to Dave. Dave knows how to smoke the weed, Dave doesn’t cough his lungs up. 

“This reminds me of the army,” Dave says, his words turn to the smoke. 

Klaus manages to pull on the dumbest of his smiles.

“Oh, I don’t know anything about the army.”

And Dave tells him. 

And Klaus remembers the trenches, the troops and the explosions. It’s their past; their present is more thrilling — they could barely pull away from each other when they made it home after the lunch. And Dave was so gentle and caring as they were making love in his bedroom, again and again, making the time stop.

“Don’t want you to think that I’m that guy who’s only craving sex on the first date,” the weed has made Dave way too talkative. “But you’re just so special. So real. I feel like I’ve known your for decades, you know? God, this is weird. As if I’ve been stalking you,” Dave takes another drag. Shares the blunt with Klaus again.

They’re lying naked in the bed, only covered with a single bed sheet; Klaus’ mind is all clouded, his head rests on Dave’s muscular shoulder. Klaus turns to him, tracing his finger down Dave’s chest, lower and lower, and —

“Do you hear the noise?”

“What?”

“Get dressed,” Dave sits up and searches for his jeans on the floor. “Stay here.”

“What’s happening?”

His brain is too lazy, but he finds his pink briefs, his pants and his t-shirt. He can’t find his shoes anywhere, but it doesn’t bother him when Dave leaves the bedroom.

And then the gunfire starts. 

At first, Klaus thinks it’s one of his flashbacks, but then he realizes that it’s a fucking Groundhog Day; he runs downstairs, nearly crashing down, covering his ears with his hands. Everything is just too loud. 

If Klaus’ life is gathered on the tip of the joint, then Dave’s life is just a puddle of blood on the floor.

“No, Dave!”

He sees the soldiers — Five once mentioned them at the Icarus Theater — the temps? — kicking the doors open, breaking the windows and leaving. Klaus falls to his knees, _because it should have been him,_ he pleads and prays for them to come back and kill him too. Dave’s body is still warm, but there’s no pulse, no breathing, there’s only a metallic smell of his blood. Klaus cradles Dave’s head in his hands, he cries and wails, sitting in the center of the living room.

“Five!” his voice is just a hoarse barking. “Do something, Five!” 

Klaus loses the tracking of time until he sees the flashing lights of the police cars. 

“Klaus,” Ben calls. “Get out of here. This is the wrong universe.”

There’s the blood all over his clothes, on his lips, and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to handle this pain again. He’s just a Ben-operated mannequin, he nods blankly and hurries to the back door before the police cars surround the house.

Each time Dave dies, a part of Klaus dies too.

*** 

His feet bleed by the time he makes it to the apartment.

“Klaus, listen to me, Klaus, don’t do it!” 

Ben was right when he pointed out that a guy like Klaus always has his stashes. All of it comes out now — a bottle of whiskey, a bunch of joints, a baggie of magic pills he finds in the crack between the floorboards. Klaus mixes it, drinks straight from the bottleneck and smokes, swallows the pills and washes them down with more whiskey. He throws the vase with the gerberas to the wall and weeps, hitting his head on the floor as he slips. 

He’s slipping so hard. 

He sees Ben, but he doesn’t want _him_ to see his tantrum, his weakness, the death of his love. He lights the candles, not bothering about the danger he’s putting himself into. Ignores Ben. Drinks. Ignores Ben some more. His heart aches, he leaves bloody footprints all over the carpet. 

“Come on,” Klaus puts the planchette on the board. “Dave?”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, the planchette swims to _YES._

The drugs in his system don’t let him see Dave, but the Ouija board is doing the things for him. Klaus giggles with whiskey sputtering out of his mouth as the letters form the word _S O R R Y._

“I’m sorry, Dave, I’m so sorry.” 

Klaus is not ready to say his final GOODBYE to Dave, but his blackout drunk mind thinks otherwise. So when his cheek smacks against the floor, he can only think that — 

The seance is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

_**00.05** _

He wakes up God knows where, feeling like he’s been doing God knows what. Klaus clenches his teeth to fight back a wave of nausea, but the only thing he can do is roll over onto his side before he spews his stomach’s contents all over the sidewalk. He lies there breathless for a moment or two before talking to himself to distract his poor stomach from twisting itself inside out again.

“Teleporting me on the streets when the withdrawal just reaches its climax? This is how you hate me, Five?”

His arm itches, and he rolls up his sleeve just to see the track marks on his right forearm, in the crook of his elbow. The bruise is black and blue, surrounded with a plethora of green and yellow ones, and the trace that only a thick belt could leave on his bicep is red and swollen.

“Oh, great.”

Klaus manages to sit on his heels before the need to puke hits him again. God, he hasn’t missed that. He rummages in his coat pocket, finding that damn scrunchie and tying his curls into a tight knot on top of his head since no one’s going to hold his hair back while he’s detoxing. He’s covered with a jelly-like layer of sweat, he’s too hot and too cold at once, he’s digging his bitten nails into his wrists. Black nail polish is chipped, his clothes are stained with blood and God knows what else.

_God, God, where are you?_

Klaus spits out bile and looks up to the sky. 

“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking.”

Breathing hurts, cold creeps into the slits in his pants. This is a reminder that he’s still alive; speaking of the dead, he needs to talk to Ben. 

“Klaus?”

This is not Ben.

Klaus is ready to get roasted for his appearance, for his state of mind; Klaus is not ready to feel Five’s hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring pat. 

“Coming down?”

This feels like another relapse, although it shouldn’t be, but Klaus can’t think about anything else at the moment. Shame punches him in the gut, forcing him to double over again.

“Why don’t you feel sick? I mean, this whole “my-body-is-torn-apart” sensation.”

Five simply says,

“I adapted.”

“Of course you did.”

Klaus grits his teeth and gets up, leaning on the rough brick wall behind him. Another bout of dizziness sends him lurching forward, he barely manages to prop his hands on his knees to steady himself. 

“Can you walk, or?”

Five is oddly caring. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… I don’t know. Such a drastic change in… Everything,” Klaus ends up whispering. Five exhales a cloud of air. “I can give you my coat if you’re cold. It’s a bit oversized, but you can wear it like a bathrobe.”

Five shakes his head, looking confused and alert, and Klaus doesn’t want to spoil his mood and ask him about their plans for today. He takes a flask out of his pocket — the one he’s always carrying there, and shakes it above his ear. There’s the liquid sloshing inside. Klaus unscrews the cap and brings the flask to his mouth, but Five snatches it out of his hand, chugging down leftover vodka. 

“Wow,” Klaus whistles. “Somebody’s thirsty for a good old hangover?”

“You’ve had too much, it seems,” Five grumbles.

“I’m also quite sure that I’m homeless. Again.”

“Got any cash?” Five doesn’t wait for the answer, twisting Klaus’ pockets inside out. His mouth twitches in disgust as he finds nothing but a pack of condoms. “No cash, got it.”

“Safety comes first.”

Klaus doesn’t know why he finds this situation so funny, but he can’t stop laughing until he feels like sobbing. 

“Well, you can’t afford a hotel room,” Five concludes. Klaus is kind of envious; his teenage body hadn’t been this resilient to alcohol. Five is his new spirit animal. “But I can’t take you with me.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Five walks away from him, and Klaus stumbles after him; sweat rolls down his temples, he can’t stop shivering.

“We can’t just wander the streets,” he scratches his arms under his sleeves. “I’m sure I look like… Like Luther during his first hangover, and you reek of vodka. What can possibly go wrong? You know, people are not fond of seeing stray drug addicts talking to kids.”

“That’s why I have to get rid of you as soon as possible,” Five replies. Indeed, he’s the survivor of the post-Apocalypse, so this scenery is nothing but a routine for him.

Klaus wants to leave. 

They go down the alleyway, past the dumpsters, and Klaus begins to recognize this part of the city. The walls of the buildings smell like cat piss, the ground is littered with the butts of cigarettes and joints, needles and syringes, tissues and blackened spoons. Definitely not the best part of Klaus’ past. He fumbles with his flamboyant top and checks his stomach — far too flat, far too empty — the temple is here. 

He time traveled to Vietnam.

Dave is dead.

Klaus can just go to a shelter around the corner and let Five blink himself out of here; but both of them know that it would lead to yet another overdose. Klaus doesn’t trust himself, he doesn’t know what’s real anymore, he can’t even see Ben. 

But he can see a figure rushing to him from the opposite side of the street. 

“Klaus! Long time no see!”

“Oh shit,” Klaus exhales, instinctively trying to push Five behind the dumpster. “Mike!” he smiles although he should already be crying, begging his dealer to give him a dose for a low price. 

And well, Mike is fast.

“I got something for you, buddy,” Mike slaps his pants’ pocket. “So? Going to a motel or you’re too eager to get it?” he grabs Klaus by the shoulders, pushing him to the wall. 

Klaus turns his head to the side not to let Mike kiss him, squirming in his grasp. 

“Got a new dealer, baby? Mike hisses into his ear. 

Klaus bats his arms away.

“I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Huh?”

“He’s getting clean.”

Five walks out from behind the dumpster, squeezing an empty bottle in his hands.

“Or, really? These bruises on his arms say otherwise,” Mike grins, yanking up Klaus’ sleeve. “Oh, wait? The boy? Forget about it,” he lets Klaus go. “A school boy, how old are you?”

“None of your business,” Five hisses. 

Mike’s fingers skim over Five’s cheek, Klaus sees it clearly; Klaus wants to run to his brother, but it’s too late. Because Five already holds a bottle by the neck, hitting its bottom on the side of the dumpster and sticking the rose-shaped shard into the side of Mike’s neck. The body falls on the ground with a thud. Mike’s legs jerk, bloody foam coats his lips and trickles down into a crimson puddle growing underneath him. The glass is red, blood gathers in a broken vessel like wine.

Klaus stares at the corpse, too afraid to turn around and see Mike’s ghost.

“Oh.” 

Five wipes his palm on his shorts.

“Let’s go.”

Klaus obeys.

*** 

“Of all the places you decided to take me to Griddy’s?”

“Shut up, Klaus.”

“No, really. Do I have to just sit here and wait for you just like if you are my daddy?”

“Yes, and I’ll punch you in the face if you say one more word.” 

Klaus bites his tongue and leans back, almost sliding off his stool. They’re the only customers here, but when Klaus opens his mouth to ask Five about something again, he’s gone. They barely talked to each other when they were kids, and well, Five apparently still hates his guts. But he’s trying to help, right? He’s trying to get better just like Klaus. The symptoms of the withdrawal wrap around him tightly, he can still feel drugs coursing through his veins, but he wants more. He’s scared, broken and devastated, and he’d prefer to go through this somewhere in the mansion, hugging the toilet just in case. 

“Ben, where are you?” Klaus groans out and drops his head onto his folded hands. He needs to sober up. 

Maybe he begins to nod off like this, but a voice and a hand patting his hair wake him up. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” Klaus props his chin with his fist to look more awake. 

And well, his mind _does_ jerk awake when he sees Hazel wearing Griddy’s Doughnuts apron and a pink shirt. Klaus rubs his eyes, once, twice, to make sure he’s not hallucinating. 

“Hazel?!”

His ribs ache at the sound of this name. 

“Klaus, thank God you’re alive!..” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Working,” Hazel gives him a worried look. “You don’t remember?”

Klaus sighs.

“Working, yeah right. Been working here all of your life, huh?”

Hazel nods. This reality has definitely screwed him up — he’s not a time traveling assassin, he’s just a baker. 

“How’s Agnes?” Klaus asks.

“Oh,” Hazel scratches the back of his head. “She helped me after our break-up, she helped me so much. While you just disappeared! I thought you were dead! You didn’t call, didn’t warn me… And then…”

“You’re together now?”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have left you if…”

“Fine, it’s just fine,” Klaus stops him. “You’re not hurting my feelings, _ouch,”_ he sees white sparkles as his stomach cramps.

Hazel takes his hand, eyes fill with concern.

“You’re using again?”

“I don’t even know whether I’m alive or not.” 

Klaus smiles.

He’s not lying. No need to hold any grudges if this reality is different from the others — _this_ Hazel didn’t try to kill him in the motel room, _this_ Hazel didn’t give him a concussion, _this_ Hazel didn’t hold him still while Cha-Cha was waterboarding him. This is fine.

This Hazel is just Klaus’ kind and brokenhearted ex.

“Want some coffee? On the house.”

“No, please. I want you… To let me use the bathroom,” Klaus croaks out. 

*** 

He’s a mess. A total mess, and he needs Ben to tell him that he’s doing everything right. But Ben’s not here, well, maybe it’s just his turn to ignore Klaus. And Klaus is, in fact, suffering. He leans over the toilet again, hacking up nothing. Judging by the tremor in his hands he hasn’t eaten for a few days, he’s dehydrated and woozy, and dying in the diner’s bathroom is probably the worst case scenario. 

So when he hears the gunshots _again_ he giggles. He keeps giggling when Hazel barges into the bathroom screaming and yanks him by the back of his coat. 

“I called the police, come on, Klaus, we gotta hide!”

Hazel drags him by his arm, and it hurts, and Klaus can’t focus on anything except for the sounds of the bullets piercing the walls. 

“Hazel! Let me go,” Klaus kicks his feet in the air as Hazel manhandles him to the back room. 

“The police’s gonna arrive soon, God, I hope they’ll save that kid…”

“What kid? A scrawny brunette wearing a school uniform?”

Hazel stops for a second.

“Yes.”

“It’s my brother,” Klaus pants out. And wriggles himself out of Hazel’s grasp. “Hide,” he orders as he runs to the _battlefield._

He covers his head with his forearms to the point he can’t see anything, but he hears the sounds of meat smacking against hard surfaces, he hears the clattering of heavy boots against the tiles — the sounds of the jungle as his mind gets stuck in a PTSD vortex. 

He sees the bodies when he blinks. 

And there are too much _alive_ temps for Five to fight against. He curses and cradles his bloodied right arm to his chest.

“Klaus! Get the fuck out of here!”

Klaus doesn’t listen to him.

His lips stretch in a delirious smile as his palms begin to glow; he feels the energy form a dome around him, and then he hears Ben say,

“Yay, finally.”

“Yeah, finally,” Five exhales, wiping the sweat off his forehead and leaning to the counter. 

“What? Gettin’ a little too old for such a race?” Klaus chuckles. 

Five flips him off. 

Ben unleashes the Horror. Ghostly tentacles spurt out of his stomach, knocking the temps off their feet along with their rifles, disarming them and pinning them to the walls, and Klaus is amazed by how mighty Ben is. Ben is like a string that’s about to snap, a time bomb, and soon enough he stands there panting, surrounded with the bodies of their defeated opponents. 

“Good job, Benny!”

Klaus’ fists are still gleaming when Five tugs at his sleeve. At first, Klaus thinks that Five wants to say something, but then he notices the blood on Five’s neck, on his white shirt, and a hole in his right shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, buddy?” Klaus catches him, presses his hands to the wound.

Ben is right next to them; Five lets out a heavy sigh before gripping Klaus’ forearms.

GOODBYE, another reality.

_**00.06** _

“I hate you, you know?”

“Nah, you love me.” 

“Can’t believe you were the one who found Reggie’s diary.”

“Oh thanks.”

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

“Come on, Diego!” Klaus waves the diary in front of Diego’s nose. “This book is like our bible now. And it says that he used the monocle to look through the time and space. The old man could literally see the future through that thing, and you just…” Klaus doubles over laughing. “You tossed it into a damn pond!”

It’s been two days since their last teleporting. They’re in the Academy now, all of them; Five’s shoulder is healing far too slowly, and he said that it somehow affected his powers. His blood loss was so major for his small body that he fainted, and Mom had to take care of him. 

And the Apocalypse is still coming. 

But this reality is not too bad, it feels… Familiar. 

After sir Reginald’s death, before Vietnam. 

Maybe Klaus can change something while he’s still here — well, when he’s sober. But Ben’s here, sitting on the floor in Reginald’s office; it was actually his idea to raid through Reginald’s library and find all of his notes. There’s a ton of information, thick red journals with golden letters RH printed on their leather covers. This is as interesting as Vanya’s book, yet more helpful, because Reginald never hesitated to write down the facts. 

“We need to find the monocle,” Diego finally admits his defeat. 

“Good point, bro.”

Klaus turns the page; even when he’s dead, Ben’s a fast reader, so it’s not that easy to share a book with him.

“I’m waiting for you in the car,” Diego says dryly. 

Klaus lays the journal onto the table.

“Fabulous. Just fabulous.”

***

“So you’re just going to… Dive and take the monocle out?”

“Something like that.”

“Ah, but it’s been two days, Diego!”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“Well, good luck then. What else should I say?..”

Good thing, it’s not that deep. Bad thing, the waves have definitely shifted the monocle on the bottom. And this is not how Klaus wants to spend his early morning — wrong timeline, wrong company. Klaus is cold, the wind is playing with his hair and with his — well, technically it’s Allison’s — leather skirt. And Diego is undressing right in front of him, decorating a pile of his clothes with the harness and with his mask. He plunges his toe into the water, nearly hissing at how cold it is.

“I’m ready,” Diego says.

“Glad that you didn’t have to jump off the bridge?” 

Diego dives right next to the NO SWIMMING sign. 

Klaus sits next to Ben on the ground and waits. And waits. And waits. Then he sees Diego emerge; he’s almost in the center of the pond now, he waves at Klaus and dives back into the depths. 

“What a man,” Klaus sighs. 

Ben agrees. 

They keep controlling the situation, and Klaus almost finds his peace looking at the water, but then he realizes that he hasn’t seen Diego’s head above the water a few minutes. 

“Diego?”

He gets up, looking forward and sideways. The water is as smooth as a mirror. 

“Diego, don’t you dare to drown! Not on my watch.”

“He can’t be dead,” Ben says. “We don’t see him. And you’ve sobered up.”

“Right.”

He’s not a good swimmer, so he physically can’t save Diego — the years of smoking have definitely ruined his lungs. Klaus’ breath hitches.

“How could we not know that there was something about that stupid monocle?”

“We were just kids,” Ben replies. “And then Reginald was… Dead.”

Klaus cracks his knuckles and bites his lips.

And this is when he hears the sirens. 

“Oh no, please,” Klaus whines, getting up and seeing two police cars on the bridge. “I can’t leave Diego! But I don’t want to get arrested either,” he decides, tucking Diego’s stuff under the rock. 

He hopes that Diego has somehow managed to emerge on the other side of the pond.

He hopes. 

*** 

He visits Five when he makes it to the Academy. Five’s sitting on the bed, wearing one of those blue pajamas from their childhood. He’s writing something on the notepad, not paying attention on Klaus as he enters his bedroom. 

“Hi,” Klaus says.

“I’m working,” Five looks at Dolores, nodding. “Where’s Diego?”

Klaus falters.

“He’s… Taking a bath.”

“Good,” Five scratches out a line. “I need a ride. Can’t use my powers at this moment, it seems,” he rubs his shoulder. “We’re going to the library.”

“I don’t think so,” Klaus clicks his tongue. “You’re always getting carsick, man. Remember that one ride with Mom and Reggie? No one wanted to sit next to you, because you couldn’t stop puking. Oh God, _I was_ the only one who could handle that!”

Five winces. 

“I don’t remember.”

“He remembers,” Ben says. 

“Relax, just relax,” Klaus changes the topic. “Read the newspapers or something.”

Five huffs and falls back onto the pillows. 

“I miscalculated again.”

And Klaus says,

“I know. It’s fine, buddy, you’re just overworking yourself.”

But he wants Dave, he needs Dave; with every reality they enter the hope of getting back together with Dave fades. But this is the only purpose, his new addiction. And Five is an addict just like him. Klaus sits down onto the floor, crossing his legs and trying to meditate. 

Five doesn’t kick him out. 

It’s getting dark when the door next to him opens, nearly smacking him.

“Hey!”

Diego is fully dressed, leaving wet footprints all over the parquet. 

“Where have you been?” Five asks.

Diego’s teeth are chattering as he says,

“Was t-taking a bath.”

“Told you so!” Klaus raises his forefinger. 

“And well,” Diego stands in the center of a bedroom. “It seems that I have just discovered a new power,” he takes the monocle out of his pocket and throws it at Five. “Ta-da, assholes.”

“What do you mean?” Klaus crawls up onto the bed. Five elbows him in the ribs, but he’s too weak to actually push Klaus off. 

Ben sits next to him, folding his hands on his knees and waiting for the story.

“So,” Diego shakes the water off like a dog. “I was looking for Dad’s monocle in the pond, and I noticed one thing. I didn’t even need to breathe. Like, at all. For hours, which made everything easier. And I found it.”

“Did you look through it?” Klaus asks.

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake, dry off,” Five glances at the water splatters on his pants. Then he takes the monocle. Looks through it. “Fuck!” he raises his arm to hurl the monocle at the door, but Klaus grips at his bony wrist, twisting it until Five unclenches his fingers. 

Klaus braces himself for the worst.

And looks through the monocle too.

He sees the bodies: Mom, Pogo, Luther, Allison, he sees himself and Diego; Vanya’s still clutching her bloodied violin. He sees Five, lying on his side with the bloody mess on the back of his head. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

Klaus wordlessly hands the monocle over to Diego. 

Diego sways a little as he brings it up to his eye.

“B-but we can change it? Right? Five? F-five?”

“I’m afraid we can’t do anything about that, Diego. I changed the flow of the time and died in the future,” he says. 

Diego clutches the monocle in his palm, storming out of the room.

“You didn’t make it,” Ben says, his lips wobble a little. _“We_ didn’t make it.”

Klaus bites his nails until they begin to bleed. 

*** 

Klaus buries himself in Reginald’s diaries while he still has time. And God, why didn’t he do that earlier — he finds more and more disturbing details about his own family as he reads through the the lines.

_...Number One, and his twin brother Number Five…_

_... ~~my son,~~ Number Four... _

“His son?” Ben gapes. “You are Reginald’s son?”

Klaus’ hands are trembling as he continues to read. 

_...his mother, Maria K., who died during labor on October 1st, 1989 in [Germany]... Number Four has barely scratched the surface of his ~~great~~ potential. ~~My genes could’ve turned him to a soldier~~ … He’s too weak… Has too many phobias… Should be focused on his individual training... _

“I can’t,” Klaus slaps the journal closed. “All that time he hated me just because he _conceived_ me. This… This is unfair! He could’ve just explained everything! Did he... Did he even love her?”

“Klaus, wait,” Ben blocks the door, but Klaus walks right through him.

“Five! Five!”

“What?” Five blinks himself right in front of Klaus. 

“Do something,” Klaus pleads, almost sobbing. “We’re gonna die, all of us! Crack the code, I’m begging you.”

And Five tries to solve one more equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want diego to discover his new powers liKE THAT PLEASE otherwise what's the purpose of tossing the monocle into the water?


	4. Chapter 4

_**00.07** _

“Nightmares again? Klaus, oh, I’m here, calm down, I’ve got you…”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer and closer to — to Dave? Klaus nuzzles his collarbone and cries as they sit next to each other on the edge of the bed. Klaus didn’t mean to jerk awake like this, but he can’t change it, he can’t change anything. 

Dave is alive again and it hurts.

“You were at the war again, right?”

Klaus sniffles.

“Something like that.”

He frantically looks around — this is not that bedroom from the reality where Dave died last time. And Klaus is wearing nothing but his pink and green briefs so he can see the lack of the tattoos from Vietnam; but he’s still getting those flashbacks. They’re just chasing him like those ghosts in the corner of the room. 

He’s sober. Great. 

Dave is concerned. Dave kisses him on the neck.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Klaus shivers at how familiar it feels. “Sorry for waking you up… This early.”

6:50 the red digits on the clock say.

“Don’t worry about that,” Dave smiles. “Was going to go for a jog before work anyway.”

Klaus scratches his umbrella tattoo.

“And these nightmares…”

“I’m so proud of you. You haven’t had them for years.”

“For _years?”_

He doesn’t want Dave to know that he doesn’t remember, that he doesn’t know anything about this universe or about their relationship. God, he wishes he had a diary or something like that. 

“I will never forget the day when I met you five years ago — we got a call about an overdosed drug addict at the rave club, and I swear I thought, “this handsome guy shouldn’t die” when I first saw you. And you survived. Got clean, got better, and it feels like it’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Dave ruffles Klaus’ hair and hugs him; Klaus missed the scent of his skin, of his menthol shampoo and cologne. 

“We met at the disco,” Klaus still finds this coincidence funny. “I was so lucky to bewitch a medic who danced me back to life.” 

He’s been there less than five minutes, but he wants to memorize everything that surrounds him there — their bedroom, their picture on a bedside table — the drawer is full of the NA meeting coins, variating from _1 week_ to _5 years._

“I know it’s not easy for you because of that Umbrella thing,” Dave sighs. “I can’t even imagine what it feels like to be you.”

“Well, it feels good at the moment.”

Dave knows about his powers, knows about his siblings — Klaus mentally thanks Five for finally picking a nice timeline. Maybe it’s finally _the right one._ Well, the world’s still kicking, Dave saves people’s lives. 

He hears a car beep.

“It’s Vanya,” Dave says. “I’m so glad that you two are working together now. Want some coffee before you go?”

Klaus is looking for Ben’s support, but Ben still hasn’t appeared. No clues then.

“I’ll get some later.”

“Fine,” Dave gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Thought so. Get dressed, love, she hates waiting.”

Vanya could’ve folded this apartment complex like a house of cards if she only wanted.

Luckily, the clothes in the wardrobe is something that Klaus used to wear in, well, in all of his realities. He even finds that rainbow-colored poncho he once started to knit. Maybe these things are like landmarks showing that they have already won. Dave doesn’t look shocked when he sees him wear a red Hawaiian shirt and those tight leather pants. Again. Dave is dressed in a gray t-shirt and baggy sweatpants, stretching, when Klaus goes to the door; Klaus thinks he will join him one day. If he gets one more day. 

“Don’t forget your keys again,” Dave gently slips them into his pocket. 

Klaus feels hot.

“I won’t.”

*** 

He runs downstairs. They live on the second floor so he doesn’t have to use the elevator — he still hates the elevators. Or any closed spaces. There is a black Chevy parked next to the sidewalk; Klaus is a little out of breath as he throws the passenger side door open.

Vanya high-fives his HELLO palm. 

“Finally stopped straightening your hair?”

“Yeah. Curly girl method is a savior, by the way.”

“Allison once told me,” Vanya smiles. 

Klaus doesn’t want to startle her with his questions like _why are we working together?_ or _where are we working?_ or _don’t you think that my kleptomania will take a new turn and I’ll run away with your money?_

Vanya looks great. She’s wearing a simple gray and black plaid flannel, and she’s keeping her back as straight as a rod as she drives. She’s gained some confidence, and Klaus loves it — confident people don’t get locked up in the crypts or in the bunkers. Confident people don’t try to kill their siblings. Vanya stops the car next to the pawn shop, and Klaus wants to cry and laugh at the same time, because it’s way too ridiculous — he used to pawn Reginald’s gold-plated shit all the time, and she bought her typewriter here. Now it’s called “The Hargreeves Pawn Shop”, and it somehow makes Klaus’ heart flutter — he’s never owned _anything_ in his life. But maybe sir Reginald just bought the shop for his own selfish purposes. Klaus doesn’t know, Klaus doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to ruin his mood.

But there’s still something that Klaus is eager to find out. 

“Where’s your violin?”

He expects Vanya to get angry, but she keeps rummaging in the boxes in the center of the shop.

“Ah, I just left it at home. Helen has an early rehearsal with the orchestra today, and then we’re going to go out and have dinner somewhere, and then… I have a lesson tomorrow. You know, I’m still trying to control my powers, and… I don’t want to scare her. We worked so hard on our relationship.”

She takes a statue of an angel out of the box and puts it onto the counter. So Klaus is not the only one who has settled down with somebody — the more he lives there, the more precious this reality gets. He vaguely remembers Helen, Helen Cho — the first chair violin. So they’re together now. 

And Vanya says,

“You inspired me. I mean, you fought your addictions for Dave, and this is the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen.” 

And Klaus says,

“Thank you,” then adding, “you’re doing great too.”

“Yeah, when I’m not causing a chaos with those sound waves.” 

“Come on, sis, you didn’t mean it,” Klaus hugs her. “I’m glad that we’re finally… Talking.”

“I always thought you were a jerk.”

He chuckles.

“You were right.”

They keep unpacking the boxes with the new items; Vanya sits in front of a pile of papers, writing something and mumbling under her breath while Klaus polishes the windows — having his hands busy is good, it stops him from wanting to steal something. It’s mostly his subconscious, because he remembers how easily the cash and jewelry used to slip into his pockets. He almost drops the cloth when Vanya slaps her hand on her forehead. 

“I forgot to tell you something!”

Klaus turns to her. 

“What?”

“It’s a girl.”

_“What?”_

“Allison called yesterday,” Vanya explains. “She’s going to throw a gender reveal party next month. Claire is so excited! We all are invited to her house in LA, so I wonder if she’s going to rumor the press to not lose their shit about it,” she clamps the pen between her teeth. “And we still don’t know how to plan Luther’s wedding…”

“Allison is pregnant, and Luther is… Getting married?” Klaus flops down onto the nearest chair. “Sorry, V, but I’ve been a bit… Overwhelmed recently, so…”

Vanya frowns. 

“Oh. Allison and Patrick got back together, and Luther… Met a girl in the club, I mean, that was literally the first time when he went partying…”

“And he’s getting married to the girl he lost his virginity to?”

“Yeah.”

Klaus covers his face with his hands and laughs.

Vanya looks at him and laughs too, squeezing his shoulder.

“And I wonder who’s next: you and Dave or Diego and Eudora?”

 _Diego and Eudora._ Klaus is about to start shedding happy tears. Everything is far too good. 

“We’ll see,” he says. 

For the first time in thirty years, he _loves_ his life.

*** 

They have a few customers; to pawn something, to buy something. Klaus enjoys being a cashier while Vanya runs the paper and the accountant work. But most importantly, he’s glad that there’s no need to steal, no need to sell himself on the streets to survive. He hears the voices sometimes, he sees the ghosts out of the corner of his eye, but they’re dulled to the point of a slight moving. 

He’s proud of himself. 

It doesn’t feel like the withdrawal is about to kick in; he’s not detoxing. But a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his pocket tell him that he’s got one more habit to get rid of. 

And then he sees Ben. 

“Oh, finally!” Klaus hurries to him. Ben takes a book from the shelf. Some Russian classic literature. And Ben holds it in his hands, flips the pages. Then puts it back on the shelf. “Ben?”

At first, Klaus thinks he somehow manifested him. But his palms aren’t glowing. Vanya waves at Ben, then getting back to her papers. _She can see their brother too._

Klaus feels kind of like he might pass out. 

“Klaus? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ben smirks. There’s a cane in his hand, the handle is the octopus-shaped, this thing looks like something that Klaus could’ve given him on their birthday. Ben walks to another bookshelf with a slight limp, but _he’s alive._ And Klaus can’t hold himself back anymore, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his favorite leather jacket and the smell of that gel he uses to style his hair. 

“What’s wrong, man?” Ben awkwardly pats his back.

“I missed you,” Klaus looks at him and then hugs him even tighter. “I missed you so much.”

Ben looks back at him, confused.

“You literally saw me just yesterday.”

“Oh, it was a long night then. The longest.” 

They did it — they averted the Apocalypse and Ben’s death. Dave is alive and Klaus is sober, and his siblings are happy in their relationships; well, he’s sure that Ben is happy too, living his healthy asexual life. They’ve arranged an agreement with the Horror inside of him after all, it seems. 

“So,” Ben takes another book. “Are you and Dave coming over next weekend? After your NA meeting, of course.” 

Klaus has no idea what they have planned, but yes, they’re coming.

“Hell yes,” Klaus grins. “Whenever you want, Benny.” 

Ben winks at him. 

*** 

Their shift is almost over when a blue flash makes Klaus flinch and drop his lighter; he crouches down to pick it up and sees a familiar pair of boots. Bony knees. He leans against the counter and gives Five a perplexed glance. 

“Don’t smoke here,” Five points at the ceiling. “Fire alarms.”

Well, at least he tied his hair up in a bun not to burn them with the lighter. Again.

Vanya gets up from her chair, adjusting a black beanie on her head.

“Five?”

And Five mutters,

“The Apocalypse is coming.”

His voice is just a whisper by the end of the phrase, his legs wobble, and Klaus has to steady him by his shoulder. His GOODBYE palm is all blood-stained as he looks at it. This is definitely not that gunshot wound from their reality 00.05; Five seems to be that one loser who gets shot _twice_ in the same shoulder.

“Five? What happened?”

Vanya catches Five under the armpits. He doesn’t seem to understand that she’s talking to him, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

“The mission… Gone wrong.” 

“He’s running a fever, help me get him into the car. I’m taking him to the Academy,” Vanya slightly pats Five’s cheek. “Hey? Stay awake for me. Mom will fix you, just hold on, please, hold on.”

Klaus scoops him up into his arms and carries him to Vanya’s Chevy, lowering him down into the backseat.

“I hate cars,” Five blinks. “Lost too much blood.”

“You’re gonna be alright, buddy,” Klaus tries to squeeze himself into the seat next to him while Vanya’s fumbling with the keys.

“Go home, you idiot,” Five kicks him in the shin. Even semi-conscious, he doesn’t stop being himself. “Go to Dave if you don’t want to lose him… Again,” he coughs, turning his head to his side. 

Klaus’ blood runs cold. 

_Dave._

*** 

Klaus lights a cigarette on his way to the bus stop; he smokes nervously, thoughts reeling in his head. He never bothered to ask the address of the hospital where Dave’s working; he doesn’t know his schedule. He can only hope he’s going to find him in their apartment.

He’s an idiot.

He drops the roach onto the asphalt as he sees the bus. The lamps cast meager rays of light onto the seats; the driver and the only passenger are dressed in black, and —

“Oh shit,” Klaus exhales as he gets punched in the jaw.

*** 

“I don’t. Know. Anything.”

A smack across the ribs doesn’t make him change his minds. He can’t believe that Hazel and Cha-Cha have made the same mistake again — kidnapped him, tied him to a chair in this godforsaken shack in the forest. 

No motel rooms then. 

Cha-Cha is doing all the work while Hazel holds a gun in one hand and a donut in the other. Losing consciousness right about now would be a blessing, but Klaus is getting slapped across the face each time when he’s about to pass out. Zoya Popova is the only ghost in the room, walking circles and pleading him to _say hi to my granddaughter Vanya, пожалуйста.*_ Klaus’ reply turns to retching as Cha-Cha kicks him in the stomach so hard he almost keels over along with the chair.

“Tell us everything you know about Five.”

“Who’s Five? I don’t recall.”

It’s been hours upon hours of a torture, with only a few minutes of a painless bliss when Klaus’ mind got turned off. His arms are burnt with his own lighter, he can’t breathe without wheezing and rattling sounds in his chest, and the side of his head feels like it’s been split open. He doubles over, blankly watching the blood from his nose drip onto his lap, splattering against faux leather. 

And then Cha-Cha takes the knife. She makes him throw his head back and presses the tip of the blade to his right eye.

“Information. Now.”

Klaus feels a tear welling in his eye, but he doesn’t dare blink, letting it roll down his cheek. He’s gonna handle it, this is fine. He’s gonna wear a sick eye patch like a pirate. He’s got at least one recessive pirate gene, so it’s… It’s fine. He’s fine.

Klaus keeps silent. 

Cha-Cha talks about Dave — who’s Dave? Klaus doesn’t know Dave, never met one. Never had sex with one, he’s sure. 

“I’m sick of this,” Hazel grumbles. “Why are we always kidnapping useless ones?”

Cha-Cha lowers the knife and turns to Hazel. The smell of the donuts from Griddy’s fills Klaus’ nostrils; he jumps up along with the chair as the butt of Hazel’s gun lands onto the top of Cha-Cha’s head, knocking her out. She staggers before landing on the floor like an awkward pile of bones. Hazel shoves the leftover donut into his mouth before squatting down and cuffing Cha-Cha’s wrist to her ankle.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he turns to Klaus. “I just want to save Agnes.” 

Klaus swallows back a mix of blood and bile.

“Don’t move, I’m gonna cut the ropes. Gustav, right?

“K-klaus.”

He still can’t breathe, even when the ropes stop strangling him. Hazel pockets the knife and nods towards the door. 

“You can stop some truck on the highway. Six miles or less. Or more, I don’t remember. You better hurry, she’s going to wake up soon.”

Hazel even holds Klaus by the elbow as he gets up. He nods instead of a “thank you”, and he sees Zoya rubbing her eyes in the corner of the room. 

Hazel opens the door.

“Now run.”

Klaus runs. 

***

His lungs are burning, his ribs ache; the thought about saving Dave keeps him going. Klaus forces himself to run some more through this liminal space, down the road until he sees the headlights in the dark.

“Hey, stop!”

He screams and waves his arms, but his legs can’t hold him anymore. The pounding in his brain worsens as he feels the smell of gas and leather; he feels hands supporting him as he doubles over and vomits onto the side of the car. 

The last drop of his energy is gone, his body goes limp in somebody’s vice grip.

*** 

“...didn’t even recognize me.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Klaus? Hey, Klaus?”

Klaus opens his eyes; everything is too blurry, but there are the faces swimming around him: Five, Ben, Diego, Vanya, and Dave. Dave? Klaus sits up way too quickly and nearly blacks out again as he wraps his arms around Dave’s neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers.

And Dave whispers back,

“I’m here. Diego could track you down when you just… Disappeared.”

“It’s not just me. It’s Patch,” Diego twists the knife between his fingers.

“Soon-to-be Hargreeves,” Klaus teases. 

Diego rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, soon-to-be Katz.”

“You’re just too sweet, you know? I might get diabetes.”

Ben is right, but not everything is as good as it sounds — there’s an icepack on Klaus’ head and an IV in his vein. His ribs throb, his mouth still tastes like blood and puke; Five is still pale, with his right arm in a sling. Klaus looks around as the dizziness passes — he’s in the Academy infirmary, he can hear the clattering of Mom’s heels in the hallway. He sits up slowly, holding onto Dave. 

“You said that the Apocalypse is coming,” Klaus snaps his fingers in front of Five’s nose. “Why? Vanya can control her powers, and those lunatics who, well, who took me hostage again…”

“The Commission.”

“What?”

“They don’t need a pawn to start the Apocalypse,” Five furrows his brows. “In this timeline, they’ve got everything to start it any moment.”

“Like a nuclear war?” Ben gets up, leaning on his cane. 

“Probably. I couldn’t make it to their archive because they shot me.”

“So we’re on the brink of death again,” Diego throws the knife to the wall. “Well done.”

He winces and pulls away when Klaus takes the needle out of the crook of his elbow. 

“I thought you loved needles, Number Four.”

“What?”

Klaus nearly falls off the cot, and Five curses loudly as they see her — a woman with a blonde hair, wearing a vintage dress and holding a mouthpiece between her thumb and her forefinger. And there is a black briefcase in her left hand. 

“Hello, Number Five.”

“The Handler,” Five gives her the creepiest of his smiles. 

The time around them stops. Vanya stays frozen in her chair, Ben is still about to take a step, Diego holds yet another dagger in his hands, and Dave still has his palm on Klaus’ shoulder. 

“You thought you can fool me using him?” the Handler points at Klaus. “Really?”

“What are you talking about?”

Klaus stands right in front of her. She smiles and adjusts the collar of his shirt. 

“You believe in your family, Number Four, no matter how many times they’ve betrayed you. And Number Five, our little Number Five just wanted to… How should I say this? To experiment on you. To try and find the universe where he’s not related to the Commission, but he’s apparently miscalculated again,” the Handler takes a drag and exhales the smoke into Klaus’ face. “He wanted to use you like his personal constant, to embed you into the timeline after the timeline to throw us off the scent. But saving Dave has never been his goal.”

“F-five? Please tell me she’s lying,” Klaus pleads, looking through the museum of his siblings just to see Five turn away from him. 

“He would’ve left you if he had found the way to avoid crossing paths with us. And Dave… He was bound to die anyway, don’t you understand? You think that Number Five took you for this ride because he cares about you, but the truth is: you’re his least favorite sibling. You just got motivation to follow his orders and got locked up in a cage of your expectations like a lab rat.”

“Enough,” Five glares daggers at the Handler.

“Oh no, she’s got a point there,” Klaus says, noticing a slight movement of the Handler’s hand. “You’re my least favorite sibling too.”

He sees her aim the the barrel of a gun at Dave. The time is still frozen as Klaus jumps at the Handler and grabs her arm, changing the trajectory of the bullet. 

“Why did you do that?!”

A gunshot muffles her words.

There’s so much blood. It comes somewhere from his liver, Klaus thinks, curling into himself on the floor to relieve a burning pain as the gash in his stomach keeps spewing out a bloody slime. It stains Five’s hands while everyone else can’t move. Five calls for him, again and again, his voice cracks in the most teenage way, and he’s crying as he presses his palm to the wound. 

“Klaus? Look at me, don’t die, you dumbass!”

Klaus chokes up a laughter. 

The Handler is nowhere to be found.

***

“You’re an idiot.” 

Hearing these words from God is weird. Klaus shrugs and sits up, brushing the dry grass off his shoulders. 

“It shouldn’t have been you,” God says. “Why are you always coming back?”

“Um, because you keep sending me back?”

He hugs his knees. She sits down next to him.

“I still don’t like you.”

“Whatever,” Klaus shrugs again. “Where’s your bike?”

“I pawned it,” God quips. 

The afterlife is still black and white, Klaus’ shirt is still too bright — maybe he’s a magnet for the death. He’s not bleeding anymore, he feels light and a bit high, but he says,

“The world’s ending.”

“I know.”

“You can’t just let the Commission destroy everything you’ve created!” exhausted, Klaus leans his back against the tree. “I’ve literally risked my life, I went through the seven circles of Hell just to get… Somewhere. Why I don’t deserve to be happy? To be clean?”

God pulls her straw hat lower.

“I can change it. The Commission will leave Five alone, you and your siblings will live your lives, but… I have to take something from you.”

“Like what?”

“Your immortality.”

“My immortality?”

“Yes. This is our last meeting, Klaus. No more chances for you. No overdoses, no nothing. Be careful.”

“So… I was immortal? Like, for real?” Klaus tries to look her in the eye to see if she’s lying. “This is why Five took me with him? He knew it, right?”

God nods. 

“Little shit,” Klaus half laughs half cries. “He calculated his way through our journey just to predict that the Handler will find us, that I will try to save Dave and die instead of him, meet you and ask you to stop the Apocalypse?” 

God purses her lips.

“You used to call him an addict too. He just wanted to be happy and clean, just like you.”

Klaus can’t blame him. 

“Now go away.”

He’s not sure if he’s thanked her or not.

*** 

“Hold his head, I know what I’m doing!”

“Where’s the wound though?”

He wakes up with a start, gulping as much air as he can — he sits up and coughs, and coughs, and coughs until his lungs start to work properly. Klaus clutches somebody’s hand and looks down; a puddle of his own blood is still warm underneath him, his shirt is undone, and his bloodied stomach is intact. The pain in his ribs is gone, his head is still spinning, but it’s not that concussion-like type of dizziness. Klaus inhales sharply and falls back into Dave’s lap. Klaus can hear Dave’s rapid heartbeat as he holds him, kisses his temple and mumbles _I thought I lost you._ Klaus feels terrible for scaring him, this is literally the last time when his little trick worked. No risks from now on. 

Ben’s crouched down right in front of them.

“And well, you were dead.”

“I think I just saved the world,” Klaus blurts out. This requires a family meeting once he feels better; there’s a lot of facts he’s eager to spit out, to share with his _family._

Dave helps him peel his soiled shirt off, helps him get up and make it back to the cot; Klaus smacks Five over the head as he passes by.

“Ouch!”

“For trying to kill me,” Klaus deadpans. “Even God herself called you a prick.”

Or course, Five doesn’t want to think about his behavior.

“But my plan worked!”

Klaus doesn’t want to get into a fight with him. He wants to wash away all the blood and take a nap. Still shocked, Vanya glances at him and says,

“Your bruises are gone.”

“Your head was busted when I found you,” Diego adds. “And the cut is gone now.”

Oh, he’s gonna have to explain that too. Klaus nods blankly, then realizing something else. 

“Now when I officially came back from the dead all woundless… Does it mean that I’m a virgin again?”

Dave leans closer to him and whispers into his ear,

“I’m sure we can fix it.”

Just like they fixed everything.

_The team at its best._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * please  
> \---  
> thanks for reading!! comments are very appreciated <3  
> \---  
> my tumblr: i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky


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